Episode Twelve:
COULD'VE BEEN FOREVER
≫ ≫ ≫
E L L I O T T ' S P O V :
Tick.
.
.
.
Tock.
.
.
.
Tick.
.
.
.
Tick.
For the love of – No, you're fine.
"Elliott, quit sitting there like a pile of shit and at least pretend to be doing something productive," Mrs. Stein glanced down at me, pencil behind her ear, and nose long and pointy as she criticized my lack of enthusiasm for the after school detention.
Yes, you heard correctly – detention. On the last and most important game of the season. Pardon my manners, but how the hell is that reasonable? Sure, I did wrong, but that asshole had it coming.
He hit first for crying out fucking loud!
Can you tell I'm pissed?
"I don't get why I have to do jack, it's detention."
"Yes, well, it would benefit you to work on assignments your teachers have given you. We are very lenient and kind for letting you do this," she defends, and I just send her away with a glare.
Tick.
.
.
.
Tock.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" I yell, and a few heads turn in my direction at the sudden burst of noise in a no talking atmosphere, but I don't really give a shit. I got a game to prepare for.
"No." She sneers, and I look up to the ceiling groaning.
"I can't control my bladder ma'am. Serious problem, I really think I should go," I lie, and the whole class turns away completely and utterly disturbed. The teacher raises her eyebrows before putting on a repulsive face and pointing to the door defeated.
"Thanks ma'am," I smile, and she stares back at me with daggers for eyes. Sucker.
But really, why the hell am I here – and not him?
Oh! That's right, his dad can pay for him to get out of anything and the teachers just stopped trying. Not to mention his kiss ass, teachers pet, face would probably escape punishment anyways.
I head down to my locker grabbing a few things before jogging to the outside window of the class we'd been sitting in.
Smile and wave.
The teacher stands up and throws a tantrum, face red, and voice hoarse as she 'demands' that I get back in the room. Funny, I don't want to.
I shouldn't be in there if he isn't.
Especially not game day, when the team relied upon me to do everything anyway.
Simple as that folks, there's my reasoning.
Bolting down the street, grin on my face, I find the old clunker in the lot and slow down to get in. Radio on, I pull out of the space and speed down the street in an effort to get away from the witch that's probably screaming to her authorities right this minute.
The smallest part of me knows I deserve to be sitting in that room.
I just ignore it.
Pulling over into Victor's Groceries, I remember to pick up the milk I promised Mom.
YOU ARE READING
Wrong Guy
Teen Fiction❝Would it be wrong to think - to think, that I could make you so much happier?❞ Fawn Lockhart and Elliott Mass have never gotten along. The water and oil of people they avoid each other at all costs, and when they do interact it's nothing but petty...
